


december 14th; 7:03 a.m

by orphan_account



Series: plucking at the heartstrings [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Prose Poem, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: how can each falling snowflake represent the ways they love? it has to be tedious. there is no way it cannot remain wholesome. and yet it does, like each unique structure falling amidst the already-settled white blanket, it does. it is everything that makes them and nothing that doesn't.to sugawara,from daichi.





	

The early bird catches the worm,

And also hypothermia,

In the case of holding hands tightly

And crunching snow beneath pairs of feet.

 

He knows it’s cold,

And his smile is there to warm him,

Because he is a walking cliché

And always has been.

 

He’s the oven that burns,

And he’s the gingerbread inside.

He is the fire that ignites

While being the smoke to guide

Even the lost of the lost

Home.

 

Yes, he is home.

He’s never needed a map

To know that.

He has always been here.

 

At a point, his hair almost

Disappears, slurring into the 

Haze of morning and winter weather.

But he’s always stood out.

 

With each falling flake

There is a new reason to look over

At the flecks of white

On his eyelashes, his eyebrows,

And it’s endearing.

But he’s always been beautiful.

 

It feels as if the grip

Underneath the knit of the mittens

Is strong enough to build

Castles, fortresses

Out of the snow.

And he’s always been one step ahead.

 

Somehow he knows

The silence among the houses

Is not because 

The town sleeps longer than they walk.

 

He knows, yes,

This is the reason it snows,

Because poetry is prettier

When it’s pure

But it means so much more 

When it isn’t.

 

There is nothing dirty about him,

And it’s obvious in the rose

Of his cheeks,

The glow of his eyes looking up

Towards the gray of the sky.

  
He’s always been better than words.


End file.
